Westways: A Village Chronicle

by S. Weir Mitchell

  CHAPTER XVI

  The widespread disapproval at the North of the Dred Scott Decision wassomewhat less manifest in the middle months of the year because of thegeneral financial distress, which diverted attention from what was soagreeable to the slave States, where in fact the stringency in the moneymarket had been felt but little.

  At Grey Pine, as elsewhere in Pennsylvania, the evil influence of thedepression in trade was felt as never before. More men were discharged,and Penhallow and his wife practised economy which to him was difficultand distasteful. To limit expenditure on herself was of little moment toAnn Penhallow, but to have to limit her ability to give where more andmore were needing help was to her at least a hard trial. With the springof 1858, business had begun to revive, while more bitterness arose whenin the senatorial contest Stephen Douglas encountered the soil-bornvigorous intellect of the little known lawyer Lincoln. The debate putfresh life into the increasing power of the Republican party in the West.

  "Listen to this," said Rivers to the Squire in July of 1858. "Here is anew choice. Long ago I got touch of this man, when he said, 'A housedivided against itself cannot stand.'" He went on to read aloud parts ofthe famous speech.

  Leila sitting with them on the porch looked round to hear her uncle'scomment. He said, "It is too radical, Rivers. It leaves no chance forcompromise--it is a declaration of war."

  "It is God's truth," said Rivers.

  "The Democrats will rejoice," said Penhallow. "The Administration will beas I am against Douglas and against this man's views."

  "I wish he were even more of an abolitionist, Squire. The right to life,liberty and the pursuit of happiness, ought to apply to all men, blackand white."

  "Yes, but are there to be further applications. Shall your free blackvote? Does he say that?"

  "No, but I do."

  "Good gracious!" exclaimed the Squire. "I move we adjourn. Here comesAnn."

  Keen to have the last word, Rivers urged, "He is not against somefugitive-slave law--not for abolition of slavery in the District ofColumbia--or the slave trade between the States."

  "But," said Leila, "I read it all last night in my room. He said it wasthe right and duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in all theterritories."

  "The right," said Penhallow, "Miss Politician?"

  "And the duty," returned Rivers. They rose as Ann came up the steps.

  Billy was carrying the baskets she had emptied in the village, and asusual with Ann when there had been much to do, she came home, Riverssaid, refreshed by the exercise of her gentle despotisms as a man may beby use of competent muscles. "You are all struck dumb," she cried. "Ismell the sulphur of bad politics."

  "I'm for Buch and Breck," said Billy. "Misses she give me a dollar tovote for Buchanan, I know--"

  Leila delightedly encouraged him. "Did you?"

  "No, it was for poll-tax. Take in those baskets at once," said Ann.

  "Yes, ma'am. Bought a fishing-pole."

  The confusion of mind which had made this practical use of Ann's mildpolitical contribution was new to the Squire, and deliciously funny toLeila. Penhallow laughed outright. Rivers was silent watching Mrs. Ann.

  To his surprise, she said, "You are bad--all of you. If the women couldvote we would cease to have trouble. It may please you all to know thatsince that idiot Pole has mortgaged his farm to Swallow and bought outthe butcher at the mills, he has repented of his Democratic wickednessand says, 'After all the Squire was right.'"

  "And where, my dear, did you get all this gossip?" asked Penhallow.

  "It is complicated; ask Pole."

  "I could guess," laughed Leila.

  "And I," cried the Squire.

  "You will all suffer," cried Ann, "and don't complain, James Penhallow,if tough beef is the final result of political complications." Whereuponshe gathered her skirts and fled laughing.

  "Pole will pay dearly," said the Squire, who was secretly securing meatfor the discharged mill-hands and understood what had influenced Pole.

  Grey Pine and Westways during the summer and fall of 1858 felt, like manyin the Northern States, the need to live with economy. Want of employmentadded to the unrest, and the idle men found time to discuss the angrypolitics which rang through the debates in the Senate. The changed tariffon iron, to which Pennsylvania was always selfishly sensitive, affectedthe voting, and Penhallow was pleased when the Administration suffereddisaster in the October elections. All parties--Republican, American andDouglas Democrats--united to cast discredit on the President's policy,but Penhallow knew that the change of duties on iron had little to dowith the far-spread ruin of trade and manufactures the result of longcredits and the careless finance of an over-prosperous people. Theelectoral results were looked upon as a Republican victory. He soexplained it on a November afternoon, as he rode through the still forestwith Leila Grey, when the faint haze and warmer days told of thatmysterious arrest of decay we call the Indian summer.

  As they rode, the long lapses into silence told of the pleasant relationsof two people entirely at ease with one another. Now it was a questionasked--and now quick discussion. She had slowly won with maidenhood whatfew children have, more or less of the varied forms of imagination, whichonce had rather amused or puzzled her in John Penhallow. Her uncle, whothought slowly unless in danger, rode on with his mind upon a small orderfor rails and was far from feeling the mystery of the autumn days. Thegirl beside him was reading into the slow rocking to and fro of thefalling leaves some reluctance to become forever a part of the decayingmould.

  "Please, Uncle Jim, don't trot. Let them walk. It is so full of tenderdeaths."

  "What do you mean, Leila?--as if death were ever beautiful or tender. Youand your aunt bother me with your absurd manufacture of some relation tonature--"

  "Oh, Uncle Jim! Once I saw you pat a big pine and say 'how are you, oldfellow?' I told John it was nonsense, but he said it was fine."

  "Oh, but that was a tree."

  Leila laughed. "Of that there can be no doubt."

  "Well, and what of it? It was half fun. You and John and your aunt sit upand explode into enthusiasm over verse, when it could all be said farbetter in simple prose."

  "I should like to put that to the test some night."

  "Not I, Miss Grey. I have no poetry in me. I am cold prose through andthrough."

  "You--you!" she cried. "Some people like poetry--some people are poetry."

  "What--what?"

  "Wasn't your hero Cromwell just magnificent, stately blank verse?"

  "What confounded nonsense!" She glanced at the manly figure with thecavalry seat, erect, handsome, to her heroic--an ideal gentleman in allhis ways. "Stuff and nonsense!" he added.

  "Well, Uncle Jim--to talk prose--the elections please you?"

  "Yes. The North is stiffening up. It is as well. Did you see what Sewardsaid, 'An irrepressible conflict,' and that man Lincoln, 'The housedivided against itself cannot stand'? Now I should like to think themboth wrong."

  "And do you not?" she asked.

  "No. Some devilish fate seems to be at the helm, as Rivers says. We avoidone rock to fall into wild breakers of exasperation; with fugitive-slavecases on one side, and on the other importations of slaves. Where will itend?"

  "But what would you do, uncle?"

  "Oh, amend the Fugitive-Slave Law. Try the cases by jury. Let slaveryalone to cure itself, as it would in time. It would if we let it alone."

  "And Kansas?" asked Leila.

  "Oh, Douglas is right, but his view of the matter will never satisfy theSouth nor the extreme men at the North. My dear Leila, the days are darkand will be darker, and worst of all they really think we are afraid."His face grew stern. "I hate to talk about it. Have you heard from Johnlately?"

  "Yes, only last week."

  "And you write to him, of course?"

  "Yes, I answer his letters. Aunt Ann writes every Sunday. Are thingsbetter at the mills?"

  "Rather. Now for a gallop--it puts me always in a more hopeful hu
mour.Don't let your aunt overwork you, Leila; she will."

  "She can't, Uncle Jim." It was true. Leila gently rebelled againstincessant good works--sewing-classes for the village girls, Sundayschool, and the endless errands which left no time for books. Heroccasional walks with Marks Rivers enabled her to form some clear idea ofthe difference of opinion which so sharply divided parties north ofMaryland. His own belief was that slavery was a sinful thing with whichthere should be no truce and no patient waiting upon the influence oftime. He combated the Squire's equally simple creed--the unbroken unionof the States. She fought the rector hard, to his delight. Far morepleasant on three afternoons in the week were the lessons in Italian withher aunt, and Rivers's brilliant commentary on Dante. The months ran oninto and through the winter, with an economical Christmas to Ann'sregret.

  * * * * *

  As a rule the political contests of our country go on without deeplyaffecting the peace of families. In the cotton States opinion was or hadto appear to be at one. In the North the bitterness and unreason oflimited groups of anti-slavery people excited the anger of men who saw intheir ways and speeches continual sources of irritation, which made allcompromise difficult. The strife of parties where now men were earnest asthey never were before since revolutionary days was felt most seriouslyin the border States.

  "James," said Ann after breakfast, when Leila had gone to dress for aride, "I think I ought to tell you that I have had this morning lettersfrom both my brothers. I wrote, you know, asking them to bring the girlsto us. Leila is too much alone. They both decline. Charles has come outfor the Republicans, and now--it is too dreadful--they do not speak.Charles tells me there is a strong minority with him and that the Stateis not all for the South. I cannot believe it."

  "Indeed!" He was not altogether displeased. "I am sorry for you, Ann, astheir sister."

  "And as a man, you are not! Where will it all end? There is neithercharity nor reason at the North. I am disturbed for our country."

  "You ask where it will all end. Where will it end? God alone knows. Letus at least wait quietly the course of events we cannot control. I atleast try to be reasonable." He left her standing in tears, for which hehad no comfort in thought or word. Over all the land, North and South,there were such differences of opinion between wife and husband,brothers, friends and kinsmen. As he stood at the door about to ride tothe mills he looked back and heard her delayed comment.

  "One moment, James--"

  "Oh, what is the matter?" cried Leila at the foot of the stairs. To seeAnn Penhallow in tears was strange indeed.

  Her uncle standing with his hand on his wife's shoulder had just spoken.Turning to Leila, he said: "Your aunt and I have had some unpleasant newsfrom your uncles in Baltimore--a political quarrel."

  "I knew it in the spring, Uncle Jim."

  The girl's thoughtful reticence surprised him. Neither to him nor to Annhad she said a word of this family feud.

  "Thank you, Leila," murmured her aunt. The Squire wondered why, as heraunt added, "I am greatly troubled. We have always been a most unitedfamily; but, dear, this--this has brought home to me, as nothing elsehas, the breaking up of the ties which bound the South and Northtogether. It is only the sign of worse things to come."

  "But, Ann," said Penhallow, "I must say"--A sharp grip on his arm byLeila's hand stopped him. He checked himself in time--"it is all verysad, but neither you nor I can help it."

  "That is too true, James. I should not have said what I did. I want tosee one of the men at the mills. His children are ill, his wife is ingreat distress."

  "I will drive you myself this morning. I will send Dixy away and orderthe gig."

  "Thank you; I shall like that, James."

  Meanwhile Leila rode away, having in a moment of tactful interferencemade her influence felt. She was well aware of it and smiled as shewalked her horse down the avenue, murmuring,

  "I suppose I shall catch it from Uncle Jim." And then, "No, he will beglad I pinched him, but he did look cross for a moment." No word of thefamily dissension reached John in their ever cheerful letters.

  On a wild windy afternoon in February, the snow falling heavily, Leila onher way to the village rang at the Rector's door. Getting no answer, shewent in and passing through the front room knocked at the library door.

  "Come in." Rivers was at his table in a room littered with books andnewspapers. The gentle smile of his usual greeting was missing. She sawat once that he was in one of his moods of melancholy--rare of late. Hereyes quick to see when she was interested noted that where he sat therewas neither book nor paper in front of him. He rose as she entered, tall,stooping, lean, and so thin-featured that his large eyes were the morenotable.

  "Aunt Ann has a cold, and Joe Grace was at the house to say that hisfather is ill, and aunt wishes you to go with me and see what is wanted.He has no way to send for the doctor; and so you see, as he is in bed,you must go with me."

  "Oh, I saw him this morning. It is of no moment. I did what was needed."

  "But I have to see Mrs. Lamb too. Come for the walk. It is blowing a galeand the snow is splendid--do come."

  Of late he had rarely walked with her. He hesitated.

  "Do come."

  "If I die of cold, Leila."

  "Die! You do not take exercise enough to keep your blood in motion. Come,please!"

  He said no more except "Wait a moment," and returned fitly clad. A furyof charging battalions of snow met them in the avenue. She faced itgallantly, joyous and rosy. He bent to avoid the sting of the drivensnow, shivering, and more at ease when in the town the houses broke theforce of the gale.

  "You won't need to go to Grace's," he urged.

  "I am under orders. Don't you know Aunt Ann?"

  Presently plunging through the snow-drifts they came into the drearydisordered back room which had so troubled Penhallow. It was cold withthat indoor cold which is so unpleasant. Joe Grace came in--a bigstrapping young fellow. "I came from the farm and found father in bed andno wood in the stack. Some one has just fetched a load." He began tomake a fire.

  "Go up to your father," said Rivers. "Make a fire in his room. You oughtto have come sooner. Oh, that poor helpless Baptist saint--there isn'tmuch wrong, but the man is half frozen--and it is so needless."

  "Come," said Leila. "Does he require anything?"

  "No, I saw to that." As he spoke, he piled log on log and warmed his longthin hands. "Wait a little, Leila." She sat down, while the loosecasements rattled.

  "Leila," he said, "there is no chance to talk to you at Grey Pine. I amtroubled about these, my friends. What I now have of health and mentalwholesomeness in my life, I owe to them. I came hither a broken, hopelessman. Now they are in trouble." She looked up at him in some surprise athis confession. "I want to help them. Your uncle told me of your aunt'snew distress and the cause. Then I made him talk business, and asked himto let me lend him thirty thousand dollars. He said no, but I did see howit pleased him. He said that it would be lost. At all events his refusalwas decisive."

  "But," said Leila, increasingly surprised, "that was noble of you."

  "Nonsense, my dear Leila; I have more than I need--enough to helpothers--and would still have enough."

  She had a feeling of astonishment at the idea of his being so well-off,and now from his words some explanation of the mysterious aid which hadso helped at the mills and so puzzled Mrs. Ann. Why had he talked to her?He himself could not have told why. As he stood at the fire he went ontalking, while she made her quick mental comments.

  "You call it noble. It is a rather strange thing; but to go to a friendin financial despair with a cheque-book is a test of friendship beforewhich many friendships fail. Before my uncle left me rich beyond myneeds, I had an unpleasant experience on a small scale, but it was auseful example in the conduct of life." He paused for a moment, and thensaid, "I shall try the Squire again."

  "I think you will fail--I know Uncle Jim. But what you tell me--is itvery bad? I mean
, is he--are the mills--likely to fail?"

  "That depends as I see it on the summer nominations and the fallelections, and their result no one can predict. The future looks to mefull of peril."

  "But why?" she asked, and had some surprise when he said, "I have livedin the South. I taught school in Macon. I know the South, its increasingbelief in the despotic power of cotton and tobacco, its splendid courage,and the sense of mastery given by the ownership of man. Why do I talk mydespair out to a young life like yours? I suppose confession to be arelief--the tears of the soul. I suppose it is easier to talk to awoman." "Then why not to Aunt Ann?" thought Leila, as he went on to say,"I have often asked myself why confession is such a relief." He smiled ashe added, "I wonder if St. Francis ever confessed to Monica." Then he wassilent, turning round before the fire, unwilling to leave it.

  Leila had been but recently introduced to the knowledge of St. Francis,and was struck with the oddity of representing Monica; and the tall,gaunt figure with the sad eyes, as the joyful St. Francis.

  "Now, I must go home," he said.

  "Indeed, no! You are to go with me to the post-office and then to seeMrs. Lamb."

  He had some pleasant sense of liking to be ordered about by this youngwoman. As they faced the snow, he asked, "How tall are you, Leila?"

  "Five feet ten inches and--to be accurate--a quarter. Why do you ask?"

  "Idle curiosity."

  "Curiosity is never idle, Mr. Rivers. It is industrious. I proved that ina composition I wrote at school. It did bother Miss Mayo."

  "I should think it might," said Rivers. "Any letters, Mrs. Crocker?"

  "No, sir; none for Squire's folk. Two newspapers. Awful cold, Miss Leila.Molasses so hard to-day, had to be chopped--"

  "Oh, now, Mrs. Crocker!"

  The fat post-mistress was still handling the pile of finger-soiledletters. "Oh, there's one for Mrs. Lamb."

  "We are going there. I'll take it."

  "Thanks, miss. She's right constant in coming for letters, but theletters they don't come, and now here's one at last." Leila tucked itinto her belt. "I tell you, Miss Leila, a post-office is a place to makeyou laugh one day and cry the next. When you see a girl from the countrycome here twice a week for maybe two months and then go away trying thathard to make believe it wasn't of any account. There ought to be some oneto write 'em letters--just to say, 'Don't cry, he'll come.' It might be aqueer letter."

  Rivers wondered at the very abrupt and very American introduction ofunexpected sentiment and humour.

  "Let me know and I'll write them, Mrs. Crocker," cried Leila. She had thevery youthful reflection that it was odd for such a fat woman to besentimental.

  "I should like to open all the letters for a week, Mrs. Crocker," saidRivers.

  "Wouldn't Uncle Sam make a row?"

  "He would, indeed!"

  "Idle curiosity," laughed Leila, as they went out into the storm.

  He made no reply and reflected on this young woman's developmental changeand the gaiety which he so lacked.

  Leila, wondering what Peter wrote to the lonely old widow, went to lookfor her in the kitchen, while Rivers sat down in the neatly kept frontroom. He waited long. At last Leila came out alone, and as they walkedaway she said, "The letter was from Peter."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, I got it all out of her."

  "Got what?"

  "She gets three dollars a week from Aunt Ann and all her vegetables fromAunt Ann, and she is all the time complaining to Uncle Jim. Then, ofcourse, Uncle Jim gives her more money--and Peter gets it--"

  "Where is he?"

  "Oh, in Philadelphia, and here and there."

  "You should tell the Squire."

  "No, I think not."

  "Perhaps--yes--perhaps you are right." And facing the wild norther sheleft him at his door and went homewards with a new burden of thought onher mind.

  The winter broke up and late in May Penhallow left home on business. Hewrote from Philadelphia:

  "My dear Ann: Trade is dead, money still locked up, and the railwayshesitating to give orders for much-needed rails. I have one small order,which will keep us going, but will hardly pay.

  "I never talk of the political disorder, but now you will feel as I do acertain dismay at the action of the Vicksburg Convention in the interestof the slave States. Not all were represented--Tennessee and Floridavoted against the resolution that all State and Federal laws prohibitingthe African slave trade ought to be repealed. South Carolina to mysurprise divided its vote; there were forty for, nineteen against thisresolution. It seems made to exasperate the North and build up theRepublican party. I who am simply for the Union most deeply regret thisaction.

  "I want Leila to meet me here to-day week. We will take the steamer andgo to West Point, let her see the place, and bring John home for hismonth of furlough.

  "I have talked here to the Mayor and other moderate Union men, and findthem more hopeful than I of a peaceful ending.

  "Yours always,

  "JAMES PENHALLOW."